by scott from jail

Does the sky over Lebanon, that ancient blue
Stretching Pharoh, Joseph, Caesar into a sweaty, marching One
Crumble these days with rockets
Like little rocks jarred from clouds
Too sad to rain?

And whilst arcing down
Spreading legs calmly, cat-like spines wrenching turgid fumes,
Striking with distant clinking sounds
Something... school, child, Israeli?
Or innocent? Did you see them?

Like flowers of fate, twisted at the stems?
White, curled, long-hugging the atmosphere
Breathing lines
Burst, pop, siren,

If so, what of the cloven hand
Wiping tears from corpses as they rot
Fly upon fly, like the ham
Covered in black and living life
Bringing contagion -

To help anyone
Fair and trembling
Honest while down they come
Spelling terror, an end to something
In little distant bangs

To help anyone else
Slandering these ancient wells of
Arrogance, wisdom, undone defeat,
Victory left naked on the stage swelling
In noxious flares, gas masks, death by endless scars...

Copyright © 2011 - scott from jail
Published: 6/16/11   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem